


Broken Wings

by wyntirrose



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-07
Updated: 2010-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntirrose/pseuds/wyntirrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fireflight's been captured and is subjected to Vortex's not so tender mercies and his creative curiosity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Wings

Fireflight came online with a pained groan. The last thing he remembered was that strange cloud formation that looked just like a giant pterodactyl. The way the sunlight shone off the back made it look like it was alive and flying under him. He was spinning and diving among the clouds, revelling in the feel of water on his skin. He should have been paying attention to the world around him, but everything was just so pretty and so fun ... He didn't remember being hit, but he must have been because he felt like he'd slammed into the ground and then been run over by something large. A truck or a tank. Definitely something large and heavy and angry. He groaned again and tried to pick himself up. And froze as he felt a weight on his back and over his arms.

"Welcome back little jetling." The voice was smooth and silky, with a cruel and dangerous edge.

Fireflight's fuel froze in his lines as he recognized it.

"Vortex ...," he whispered, his vocalizer strangling in fear.

The helicopter chuckled darkly and ran his hand up Fireflight's spine sending a shiver through the young jet's body.

"... what do you want?" Fireflight's voice was strangled and he tried to pull away from the Combaticon only to feel the weight on his back increase as whatever held him to the table constricted.

Vortex crouched down beside the jetling and patted his cheek with false care. "Careful now, little one. We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

"I thought that's exactly what we wanted," a gravelly voice rumbled from across the room.

Vortex's gaze never left Fireflight's face as he replied in a relaxed, almost sing-song tone. "Shut up, Brawl. You don't understand the subtleties of what I do."

The big tank grunted. "This don't need no subtlety. Onslaught was real clear, 'Tex."

"Well Ons doesn't know everything and he isn't here, is he?" Vortex replied as he stood up. "Don't worry your head, Brawl. Onslaught will be happy by the time I'm done."

"Is that even possible?"

"Why Brawl! Is that a joke? I didn't think you had it in you?" Vortex chuckled.

He moved over to his tools and waved his hand dismissively at the tank. "You may as well leave. He's not going anywhere and all this will just bore you."

Again, the tank grunted, but left the room without complaint.

"Now that we're alone, my dear, I think that it's time you and I had a long chat," Vortex said, turning around to face Fireflight.

From where he was lying, the young jet could see a long, cruel-looking device in the helicopter's hand. He'd heard stories about Vortex, horror stories about what he used to do to his prisoners. He tried to remain calm and stoic in the fact of what was sure to happen, but he couldn't, and the room was filled with the whine of his engines and cooling systems as he was gripped by panic.

"Oh calm down," Vortex said, running his hand up Fireflight's leg to his side. It was the gentle caress of a lover and it made Fireflight's internals crawl.

The Decepticon interrogator slowly made his way around the jet, making three full rounds before sitting down to face him.

"I just want to talk. That's all. You tell me what I want to know and we all leave here."

"I- I don't believe you," Fireflight whispered.

"I don't know why you wouldn't. I've never lied to you, have I?" Vortex asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Fireflight offlined his optics and tried to shake his head. He tried to access his comm system but found it offline.

"If you're wondering, it isn't offline, kiddo," Vortex said, as if reading Fireflight's mind. "I took it upon myself to remove your communications system. Trust me; you're not going to need it. But feel free to call your brothers on the gestalt link. It should take Silverbolt a few hours to get here, so that'll leave us plenty of time before we have an audience. Have I mentioned that I love having an audience? Especially when it's family."

"Let me go," Fireflight tried to growl out. But the attempt at ferocity only managed to sound pathetic as his vocalizer hitched with fear. "... I won't tell you anything ..."

"Oh, sweetie, by the time I'm done with you, you'll be telling me things you don't even tell yourself." Vortex's optics brightened with insanity and he ran his finger down a transformation seam in Fireflight's side, carefully mapping it out, inch by inch.

Fireflight's turbines whined in fear as Vortex brought a small hook-like device up into the Aerialbot's line of sight with a malicious chuckle.

"Let's start, shall we? What are the access codes to Red Alert's security system?"

Fireflight cried out as the hook was slipped into a gap in his transformation seam and began to prod and catch the delicate wiring within. Nothing was ripped or damaged, but the anticipation was torture enough for the young jet.

"Stop! I can't tell you anything!"

"Can't or won't? There's a difference, you know," Vortex stated as he added a second hook to the methodical probing. One sharp edge scraped against the inside of Fireflight's plating causing the Aerialbot to cry out in something that was only half pain. "Did you know that there's very little difference between pain and pleasure. Almost like opposite sides of a moebius strip. If you tell me what I want to know, then maybe I'll teach you all about it."

"No!" Fireflight gasped. His turbines and cooling systems began to scream out in fear. "No I can't!"

Vortex stood up, leaving the hooks in place and tapping them gently as he walked away.

"There's that word again," he said conversationally. "I'm really beginning to wonder if you fully understand your predicament here, Flighty. I really have to wonder if you truly grasp the severity of the situation."

He began to walk his fingers up Fireflight's wing, managing to hit every node and nub and overly-sensitive seam as he did, sending shivers up the jet's spine. Making sure he was fully in the young mech's line of sight, he picked up a laser scalpel and turned it on. For a moment, he admired the glowing tip, and then used it to slice through a piece of scrap metal.

"I know that you want to tell me what I want to know, Fireflight. After all, that's what you Autobots do, isn't it? You help people?" he asked. "Now what are the access codes to Red Alert's security system?"

"I can't," Fireflight, whispered, optics never leaving the glowing tip of the scalpel. "I don't know. ... please, you have to believe me!"

"Oh, I know you don't." Vortex turned to face his prisoner, his optics darkening slightly.

"... then why?"

Vortex shrugged. "Because I can."

The helicopter stepped toward the jetling and ran his fingers over his wings with a gentle, mocking caress.

"So, since you don't have any information for me, let's see how else you can amuse me," he said conversationally. "I hear that flyers go insane if they can't get off the ground. Shall we put it to the test?"

"No! Please!" Fireflight cried out, trying desperately to wrench himself free from the table. "No!"

"Now this might sting a little," Vortex replied, ignoring the jetling's cries and bringing the scalpel down onto one broad wing. "Oh, who am I kidding? This is going to hurt. A lot."

A sharp, blinding pain blossomed out of Fireflight's wing as the scalpel was pressed to one of the connecting seams. His screams of fear and pain rang out through the room and out into the hall before cutting off as he fell blessedly offline.

Vortex looked down at the young mech's still form and huffed in irritation. "Oh well where's the fun in that? I barely even touched him!"

Swindle snorted from his place in the doorway. "What did you expect, Tex? He's not even a vorn old and an Autobot to boot."

"So? I was all set to play!" Vortex whined.

"Yeah, and I had other plans too," Swindle replied irritably. "But instead I'm here having to deal with your mess."

"It's not a-" Vortex's protests were cut off as Onslaught entered the room, followed by Brawl.

"What's going on here?" the Combaticon commander demanded.

"Nothing?" Vortex's reply was anything but innocent, managing to sound more like a human child caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

"Nothing? That doesn't look like nothing." Onslaught walked up to the Aerialbot, brushing past Vortex dismissively, and pulled a lever on the table, moving it to an upright position.

The movement was enough to rouse the young jet, who immediately tried fruitlessly to back away from Onslaught as soon as he saw the big Decepticon. As he did, he cried out wordlessly over the gestalt link, pleading for help.

 _"No! Please! Stop! NO! Help me! Please! PLEASE! NO!"_ He opened the link wide, transmitting everything in a blind panic. It may have reached his brothers, but all in heard in response was the message looping back again and again until it was a screaming blur of hysteria.

Onslaught just shook his head at the desperate attempt, and reached out to grab the Autobot. His fingers closed around Fireflight's chin as he forced the young Arialbot to look at him. His grip was like a vice, wrenching a pained moan out of the jetling.

"You were supposed to disable Superion, Vortex," Onslaught said with a fearful calm that turned Fireflight's internals to jelly.

"Yeah? And?" The helicopter never turned to face his commander, just continued to clean his tools.

"So would you care to explain to me what this is?" Onslaught's tone never changed, but his grip tightened until Fireflight was sure his faceplates would buckle under the pressure.

"It's an Aerialbot," Vortex replied with an unconcerned shrug.

"It's an arm. What the frag good is there taking out Superion's arm?" Onslaught demanded.

Again, Vortex shrugged. With the reflexes and speed of a coiled snake, Onslaught spun and backhanded the helicopter, sending him flying across the room.

"Hey, come on, Boss! We need him in one piece, right? I mean, Megs won't be happy if we come back minus an arm, right?" Swindle said, acting as the voice of reason in a potential powder keg.

Onslaught glared at the small jeep, jaw bunching in frustration. "Both of you deal with him then meet us back at the base. Brawl, let's go. Blast Off is waiting."

As soon as the door shut, Swindle spun on Vortex. "What the frag were you thinking?"

"Aw come on, Stumpy! Onslaught wasn't really specific!" Vortex argued as he got back to his feet and shook his head slightly as if checking for anything loose.

"He was specific enough! And now I'm stuck cleaning up your mess! Again!"

Outside the bunker, they could hear the sound of Blast Off taking to the sky.

"You know," Vortex said thoughtfully, "Ons never said when we needed to deal with him. More than enough time for us to play, right?" He looked stepped up to Fireflight and looked him in the optics. "You want to keep playing with me, right? I mean, we still need to explore that moebius strip."

"We don't have time for this, Tex! Just shoot him and let's get going!"

"Aw come on Stumpy! You'll like playing with this one!" Vortex replied as he moved around to Fireflight's back.

"No!" the young jet cried. "No! I don't want to play and I can't tell you anything! Please! Let me go!"

Again, the link was thrown wide open and his blind panic flooded his mind. But this time he could feel it connecting.

 _"We're coming 'Flight! Just hang on! We're coming!"_ Silverbolt's voice came across the link like a tiny memory of an echo, mingling with the even softer voices of his brothers. Fireflight felt all of them distantly, surrounding him, embracing him, and protecting him, but at such a distance that it was like a half-remembered dream. But it was enough to light a glimmer of hope in Fireflight's spark.

Suddenly Vortex's face swam into Fireflight's vision.

"Oh, I know that look. Are your brothers coming? They are, aren't they? Oh goodie! More toys to play with," Vortex said calmly. "See Stumpy? I told you this was a good plan."

"A good plan? Tex are you out of your mind! We're alone here! We can't take on all the Aerialbots!" Swindle practically shrieked.

"Oh calm down. We'll be fine," Vortex shot back dismissively before turning back to Fireflight. "But this does mean that we need to work faster kiddo. After all, I can't have the others getting in the way of our alone time, now can we? Pity, because you and I would have had so much fun together."

He slapped his hand against Fireflight's wing and began to cut.

"We don't have time for this!" Swindle yelled over Fireflight's screams.

"Of course we do," Vortex replied dismissively, grumbling to himself as the Aerialbot fell offline, overcome with pain. "He really is no fun."

After a moment, he pulled one wing away from Fireflight's body, tearing the wiring beneath.

Swindle's lips compressed into a thin line and his optics darkened angrily. "Last chance Vortex," he growled.

"Yeah, yeah." The interrogator waved his hand dismissively as he began to work on the second wing. "I really want to see his reaction when he comes back on-line."

Swindle growled and pulled out his gyro gun. "That's it, Tex. This is for your own good."

As the helicopter looked up at his team-mate, Swindle fired. Vortex swayed on his feet, drawing the scalpel down Fireflight's wing and back.

".. Not fair ... Stumpy ..." He lost his balance and hit the ground hard. "... not fair ..."

"Yeah, well life ain't fair." Swindle turned his gun on the unconscious Aerialbot fully intending to offline the Autobot permanently when he heard the distant whine of a Concorde's engine being pushed past its limits.

"Screw this," he muttered as he pulled Vortex to his feet. "Come on. Time's up."

"What about ... my toy?" Vortex slurred.

"Screw him and Onslaught too. We're getting out of here. Now!"

Swindle dragged Vortex to the door and out of the building, taking to the skies as soon as he was out the door. Once he was at a safe distance, he turned, pulled out a massive gun and fired at the building, the recoil sending him tumbling end over end in the sky.

"Awww! Stumpy!" Vortex whined as he looked down at the destruction. "You're so no fun!"

"Yeah, but we're alive, and if we stay here much longer we won't be," Swindle snapped. "Now let's go!"

They flew away from the smouldering rubble of the warehouse.

***

Shadows seemed to swim in and out of Flightlight's sight, closing in on him, surrounding him, seeming to embrace him as he fell into it. He was dying, he was sure of that. But he wasn't about to go out without a fight. He couldn't. Silverbolt would kill him if he got himself killed. He knew there was a problem with that logic but he couldn't quite figure out what was wrong with it. A haze of pain had dulled his processor, and there was a weight pressing down on his frame, bending and buckling his intakes and making it hard to vent properly. His communications were down, he could barely feel his brothers across the gestalt connection, and now warnings were flashing in his HUD, skipping and jumping in his vision as his optics began to short out.

 _Warning: Fuel loss at dangerous levels. System shut down imminent._

Fuel loss. That explained the feeling of something trickling over his back and down his legs. It was strange, he would have thought that dying would have felt colder, but he was warm. Terribly warm, in fact.

 _Warning: Cooling systems offline. Permanent processor damage risk. System shutdown imminent._

He felt something above him shift and heard a distant rumble. It sounded almost like voices, but it couldn't be. Hadn't Vortex said that the other Aerialbots were hours away? It must be the processor damage causing hallucinations as it kept rebooting.

The shadows seemed to darken behind the warnings, moving in front of him like living things, flitting about the space and bringing with them a strange hum. It sounded almost like speech, but there was a roar of static in his audios and he couldn't make anything distinct out above it. He was sure now that he was dying, that his systems were shutting down one by one. Maybe all these shadows and hallucinations were normal. Maybe this was what it was like when you became one with the Matrix.

"Stay with me, 'Flight. We're here." The voice was soft and full of sorrow and concern.

"Please 'Flight, you need to stay with us just a little longer."

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"Where the frag is that monster? When I get him he's gonna pay!"

"Calm down! We can't help Fireflight if you get yourself fragged too."

"Can you fix him? Can you stabilize him?"

The voices came from all around him and from nowhere, as if from inside him as well as out. He onlined his optics and looked up. And there was Silverbolt, his massive hands removing the clamps and straps that were holding him in place.

His brothers had come. They'd made it just like they always did. Fireflight would have sobbed for joy if his vocalizer was still working. He sent his joy out across the gestalt line and his brothers returned it tenfold.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work.


End file.
